Unrequited Filth
by PigeonChicks
Summary: Unbeknownst to her, Filch is creepily stalking Professor McGonagall. Will she be able to escape his compulsive gaze and his drive to avoid yet another late-night dinner of cat food with Mrs. Norris?


**Unrequited Filth**

"Argus, it appears that Mr. Longbottom has vomited rats and slugs all over the transfiguration classroom. I'm not sure how it happened. In light of his failure at magic, I asked him to fold a paper crane and literally had his wand sitting on my desk at the time it happened. Would you be a dear and clean it up for me?" Professor McGonagall sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose.

"That's right tough, Miss. You just rest yourself up and I'll have 'er sparkling in a jiffy!" Filch smiled good naturedly.

Professor McGonagall, repulsed by his physical appearance and general dirtiness gave a strained smile and ran off.

"I'll put the whinny back in that mare one o' these days." Filch ogled her retreating bottom with creepy, beady stalker eyes.

* * *

A short hour later found Filch as good as his word (the part about cleaning up the classroom). He now had a musty overtone to his unfortunate stench. As he stood up to admire his handiwork, he heard a sudden crash from outside.

"Oh no!"

"Damn rotten kids and their stupid mother f-"

He raced out and froze mid-curse as he spied Professor McGonagall standing over the shards of a sky blue urn that she had dropped.

"Oh. What's all this then, Miss?" Filch tried to erase the permanent rage from his face.

"I just bought this urn from a catalogue. It grades papers for me and I was about to put it to work so that I could take a nice relaxing bath," Filch tried not to show his arousal, "but it looks like I'll be doing my job again tonight." Professor McGonagall sighed.

"That's really too bad." Filch tried to look sympathetic, but mostly continued to imagine her in the bath.

"I'm sorry, Argus, if it isn't too much trouble could you please dispose of this for me? I mean, I suppose I could use magic to get rid of it, but I'm busy. Looks like another late night for me." She sighed and wandered back into the now spic-and-span classroom.

"It would be my honor." Filch whispered inaudibly, his warm breath passing over his crooked teeth and thin, jagged lips.

He knelt down and reverently collected that which Minnerva McGonagall had touched with her hands into an old shoebox. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

The lights were dim in the small, cramped room that Argus Filch inhabited. He didn't require much and this Spartan lifestyle was certainly reflected in his humble and trash-ridden abode. He sat hunched over a work table in deep concentration as he meticulously reassembled the sky-blue urn (by hand since he was a useless squib.) Although some of the pieces had been as thin as slivers, he had nonetheless glued them perfectly into place. He leaned back.

"Finished at last." He exhaled in triumph. The cuts in his hands were so totally worth it.

He turned to face the one wall hanging that he possessed. It was a cork pin board that had a candid photo Harry Potter and a poor quality photo of Rubeus Hagrid underneath a header that read: "Friends". Below that was a small box with room for another picture underneath the heading: "Girlfriend?"

"Soon we may have another picture to put up, eh Mrs. Norris?" Filch turned to his only friend and loyal companion.

Mrs. Norris seethed in silent jealousy.

"Don't fret, Mrs. Norris. You'll always be my special lady, but she can give me the one thing you never can: a non-deviant, healthy sex life that won't get me arrested." Filch gave her a patronizing pat on the head.

Mrs. Norris was pissed off that she had given up college for him.

"Now I must return it to my beloved goddess of arts and crafts." He sighed dreamily. "But I'm much too shy and afraid of rejection to do it in person. Best to leave it on her desk with an unmistakable calling card."

Holding the urn tenderly in both hands, he slowly exhaled his foul breath into it. Surely once she smelled it, she would know the identity of her secret admirer.

* * *

Filch was sweeping dutifully outside of the faculty room in order to eavesdrop. Luckily for him, Professor McGonagall was there talking to Professor Snape about her mysterious gift.

"As an expert on arts and crafts, I can see that this was meticulously reconstructed by hand in a most artful manner. In fact, you can see the blood from the tiny, sliver-thin pieces." Professor McGonagall sent Snape a knowing smile.

"Uh huh." Snape continued reading a Maxim magazine that was concealed within a potions tome.

"It was very thoughtful of whoever did this." She pressed. "Why, my grading only took two minutes and I got to take that bath after all!"

Outside, Filch got a dreamy look on his face.

"That's great, Minnerva." Snape said in a voice of practiced disinterest.

"Although the manufacturer sure didn't say anything about the stench." She gave the urn a sad look. "Luckily it basically passes on to the students."

"Right." Snape flipped the page.

Filch had been sweeping the same spot for five minutes, just itching to burst in and confess his undying love. But his damnable shyness held him at bay, keeping him forever the hideously wilted wallflower.

"So, Severus, I was thinking of having a small faculty gathering this Thursday down at Hogsmeade Pub." Professor McGonagall began.

"What's on Thursday?" Snape looked up idly from his "article".

"Why, my birthday!" Professor McGonagall smiled.

"But you never invite myself, Argus or Hagrid to your birthday gathering. It's usually reserved for your friends." Snape raised an eyebrow and gave a wry smile.

"Well, I should think I'm entitled to…change my mind." Professor McGonagall pulled at a loose wisp of hair, twirling it around her finger.

The two professors suddenly looked up in alarm as a clumsy Argus Filch tripped into the room. Righting himself and the table he had almost knocked over, he executed a Picard maneuver and cleared his throat.

"Evenin'." He gave a toothy smile. "So what's this I hear from Pomona about it being your birthday?"

_That bitch! I told her not to say anything to him._ Professor McGonagall was not happy.

"Oh…yeah…"

"That's this Thursday, right?" Filch pressed, knowing this desperate conversation was his last chance at love.

"Uh…"

"At Hogsmeade?" He stared at her expectantly.

"Don't you have…cleaning to do?" Snape got in between Filch and Professor McGonagall.

"Well-"

"No, no Severus. It's…okay…y-yes…Thursday. At Hogsmeade…" Professor McGonagall said awkwardly.

"YEAH!" Filch leapt into the air holding his broom and clicking his heels together. He then ran from the room.

"No, please. Please come." Professor McGonagall looked extremely unimpressed.

"That's okay. At least we'll have someone to clean up after Dumbledore partakes of too much butterbeer and schnapps." Snape cackled.

"Tee hee!" Professor McGonagall tittered.

* * *

"What should I get her? What do you get for the perfect woman?" Filch was pacing back and forth in his room in agitation, watched closely by Mrs. Norris. "The perfect man! I could be nude and put a bow on my chest and-"

Mrs. Norris gave him an imploring look and growled in a low and threatening way.

"You're right. The bar is a family place. They wouldn't understand my love anyway." He started pacing faster. "I just…I know so little about her. I guess I'll have to do some fieldwork to find out what she likes." He looked happy and excited now that he had a plan.

Mrs. Norris jumped down from the table and left the room, clearly washing her hands of the whole affair.

* * *

"And that is why you should never, EVER, try to transmogrify your penis." Professor McGonagall paused to look at her unusually silent class. "You certainly are listening intently today. Keep it up." She smiled.

Her class sat in silent terror, staring straight ahead.

Oblivious to Argus Filch, who was hovering outside the classroom window with his face pressed against the glass like a yellow-toothed hagfish, Professor McGonagall enjoyed her positive teaching environment as the window fogged with Filch's heavy breathing.

* * *

Professor McGonagall sat down to the evening meal at the head table in the Great Hall. She was delicately nibbling away at some goat cheese penne with a rosé sauce, washing it down with sips of a sophisticated red wine.

Unbeknownst to her and the rest of the faculty, Filch sat atop Hagrid's massive shoulders in order to better spy on his secret love throughout the entire meal. Because of Hagrid's horribly thick moleskin coat, the gentle giant was none the wiser that he was harboring a perverted parasite. Filch took detailed notes and several photos.

* * *

After her busy and eventful day, Professor McGonagall was fast asleep in her white, fluffy bed. She was soothed in her dreams by the sound of the water running through the pipes in the wall next to her. Filch had squeezed into the space between the pipes and peered down at her through two peep holes that he had drilled into a painting of hers. The former minister of magic in the painting had screamed when blinded, but had grown to accept his fate. As she slept, she truly looked like a middle-aged angel.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Minnerva!" Dumbledore cheered, already well into the nosh.

"Thank you, headmaster. Thanks to all of you that I **invited** for coming to celebrate the day that I was brought into this world." She gave Filch a pointed and rather nasty look.

"Open your presents!" Pomona Sprout vibrated with excitement.

"Well, since you're so excited, Pomona, I'll open yours first." Professor McGonagall, already expecting what was to come, didn't even feign surprise or excitement. "Oh wow. A plant. Thanks."

"It's a Belgian Boring Plant! It's ultra-rare and the most boring plant in the world. It has no distinguishing features whatsoever!"

Professor McGonagall looked at the plant in disgust. It looked like a child's drawing of a tree. "Lovely." She tucked it under the table and then secretly kicked it over.

"My turn, my dear!" Dumbledore stood up, holding something behind his back.

"Er…" She flinched, as last year he had gotten her a pet wolverine that didn't take kindly to being touched.

"It's a new pointy bitch hat!" He pulled out a purple witch's hat with a razor tip on it.

"Oh, Albus, that's good timing. I needed a new one." McGonagall put it on.

"Lord knows! Your old one is _so _last season!" Dumbledore laughed at her paltry living budget.

"Open mine next, Minnerva!" Professor Flitwick held up a small, wrapped box. "And remember: good things come in _small packages_." He raised his eyebrow suggestively.

"Alright then." Professor McGonagall was a little nervous, but tore open the wrapping nonetheless. She opened the box and her mouth pressed into a firm, angry line. Slamming the box shut, she chucked it at the tiny professor and got him right between the eyes.

"Ahahahahahahahahahhahaaaaa!" Professor Flitwick laughed like an asshole.

"What was it?" Dumbledore leaned forward, swaying slightly.

"Never you mind, Albus." Professor McGonagall cast everyone a frosty glare of silence.

"It was a con-dom!" Professor Flitwick continued to laugh.

"AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Dumbledore joined in the laughter, tears leaking from his ancient eyes.

"I guess that just leaves this one." Professor McGonagall picked up what appeared to be the last package and looked at it. Whatever it was, at least it was a distraction. "It doesn't seem to have a card…"

It was carefully wrapped in a paper that was her favorite colour and had her favorite flowers on it. She ignored this and tore into it.

Filch leaned forward in anticipation. His thoughtfulness was rewarded and Professor McGonagall gasped in awe. Filch had given her the necklace that his grandmother had received from his grandfather when he proposed to her.

It was a plain-looking necklace with a breath-taking centre piece. The crystal orb at the centre contained a fire that burned with the passionate colours of a sunset. The pink, purple, gold, and orange luminescence glittered before them in a resplendent facsimile of nature's glory.

"It's gorgeous," She said softly, her face thrown into a beautiful, flattering light by the colours of the pendant, "Severus."

Filch's mouth dropped. Snape sat up straight in alarm, at first not understanding what was happening.

"Did you get this for me?"

Snape tried to put the string of events together.

"Uh-"

"It's _beautiful_!" She threw herself at him.

"Yeah…" He barely caught her and maintained his balance.

Quietly, he threw his gift of a crappy pencil set off into a corner of the room. In light of a face that just screamed 'you're totally going to score tonight' he found himself even less inclined than usual to tell the truth.

Filch stared at the scene unfolding before him, too shocked and consumed by grief to speak up. As his soul was consumed by loneliness, Professor Snape carried Professor McGonagall out of Hogsmeade and headed for the Shrieking Shack in order to show her how it really got its name. As Filch slunk out of the room, Professor Flitwick said,

"She really shouldn't have thrown my gift away after all."

* * *

Filch shuffled in defeat back to his living quarters. The pre-emptive "Mission Accomplished" banner only added salt to the sting of his deep emotional wound.

Mrs. Norris, having foreseen this, had prepared a dinner of cat food to console him. She gave him a sympathetic look.

"Oh, Mrs. Norris! She took Gran-gran's necklace and went to go make whoopee with that…that MAN!" Filch wailed, flinging himself down onto the table top to sob out his sorrows.

Mrs. Norris put a comforting paw on his face and then nudged the cat food towards him, as though to say, "There, there. Everything will be okay. Look, I made dinner."

And, sobbing quietly in his dungeon with the only real friend he had, Argus Filch had yet another cat food dinner with Mrs. Norris.


End file.
